


Happy Birthday

by Benedicthiddleston



Series: Five Year Mission [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Birthday, Cute, Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Birthday, One-Shot, mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benedicthiddleston/pseuds/Benedicthiddleston
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk's 28th birthday is just another day in space. But he has friends, family, and a new outlook on life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of Chris Pine (Captain Kirk himself) and his 33rd birthday today (August 26th), I decided to write my crazy birthday plot bunny.
> 
> Expect craziness, antics, fluff, and feels.
> 
> It is unbetaed. 
> 
> While it does/doesn't yet have a specific place in my five-year mission series, I'm placing it in there for safe keeping. When I finally write my next installment, this might change, considering I'm not spoiling that yet, and this is after that installment. One-shots are easier to flesh out. 
> 
> Thanks for coming by :)

**Happy Birthday**

For the most part, Jim Kirk’s birthdays over the years had been uneventful. Meaningless to him; just another day. Yeah, he could add another year to that age counter people sometimes obsessed with – he’d been able to keep track of his age from the time he was three. But, for the most part, he tried to ignore it. He didn’t care. His birthday was overshadowed by the memory of his father’s death. His mother had cared more about her dead husband then him as a son, who was _alive_.

Now that same son was Captain of the _USS Enterprise_ , still the best Constitution-class Starship the Federation had. Said starship had headed out on a deep space five-year mission.

And today, as the ship’s computer would profess, was Jim Kirk’s first birthday on said five-year mission. Oh, the computer would only state the date and time, as the calendar date referenced planet Earth and the time in relation to Starfleet Headquarters. Solar time keeping helped keep the ship and its crew in a state of normalcy out in the deep recesses of space, where sometimes the sun wasn’t around to tell the time for them. It also gave way to set shifts, and a set day time and set night time.

At five that morning, Captain James T. Kirk was awoken by a fierce chirping of his communicator, and someone banging on his quarter’s door. Which told him, even as he sat up wearily, that it wasn’t Bones or Spock. They were the only ones who had his security code, other than himself of course. 

Having pulled a triple the day before, and only managing to get off the bridge at shift change at 10 last night, he had seemingly crashed into his bed still in uniform. Now, as things and people demanded his attention, he could only think, _I’m on shift in an hour… this can’t wait?!_

“I’M COMING!” He yelled at the door, the banging ceasing a second later. Communicator in hand, Jim flipped it open and barked, “Kirk here.”

The door slid open as Spock’s voice filled the area. “Captain, you are requested on the bridge.”

“Dr. McCoy requests your presence in sickbay,” the young ensign stated, facial expression stone silent – even after _all that pounding_.

“We have a situation,” Spock stated before the comm. went silent. Which told Jim exactly where he needed to be.

“Please tell McCoy I’ll be with him as soon as I can. I have more important business to attend to,” and without another word, Jim headed for the bridge, ignoring, or forgetting, the fact he was still in his clothes from the day before. He would change later, when he had time.

The situation the day before had grown hostile during a, what had seemed peaceful at first, first-contact mission took a turn for the worse when the locals had seen Ensign Chekov and desired to sacrifice his young, brilliant mind to the gods. As Uhura later would determine, alongside Spock, the locals believed intelligence was a gift, and one that the gods cherished. As Chekov was young, at the age of 20, and scarily brilliant – he was their target.

Thankfully, the locals hadn’t gotten their slimy (quite literally) hands on the ship’s navigator, but negotiations had dragged on, and then grown dangerous when they threatened the lives of several other members of the _Enterprise_ crew.

Now, Jim could only assume the locals were at it again – demanding blood for their gods from these strange aliens who happened upon their planet. If so, it was going to be a long day. Jim was going to have to pull them out and continue on to the next planet or happenstance, because he wasn’t going to deal with anyone who wanted a part of his crew for a _sacrifice_. Granted, if they had wanted him (which they didn’t, weirdly enough. Apparently his and Spock’s genius brains weren’t cut out for a sacrifice of their caliber, whatever that meant), he probably would have negotiated on the fact they had to let his ship and crew leave that second. Yeah, he was a little _too_ noble like that.

Reaching the bridge, Spock was seated in the center chair, Uhura and Sulu standing on either side of him as they talked away. Chekov was absent. Which was normal. It was 5 in the damn morning, and none of Jim’s senior command usually had the night shift. Day and Evening shifts, yeah, but night usually was a select group specifically picked by Jim himself. Usually a quiet shift, it was overseen by Jim’s last Command Scenario class partner, Richard. But Spock was in command at the moment, after the long held tension with the locals down on the planet, after basically forcing Jim to get some sleep. Uhura hadn’t left, Sulu hadn’t left, and Chekov was gone.

“What is going on?” He was awake and ready to fight with someone. Granted, not every shift went that way, but the locals were pushing his buttons. Diplomacy – yeah, he was still learning, obviously.

“The locals have a new trick up their sleeve. They lured two security officers to beam down to the surface. Before anyone could catch them, their blood was all over the place. S’r’iiil is now demanding Chekov be handed over, or they will attempt to lure more crew members down and spill more blood.”

And with that statement, Jim jumped into the action.

“I need the two security officer’s names. Are their bodies still around or are those gone? I want them back, if we can get them. Their families need closure. I want the locals HAILED AND ON MY SCREEN IN FIVE MINUTES, LIUETANT, OR SO HELP ME. Where is Chekov? Have four security officers on him now. If we have to, I will place him in the only spot on the ship they will never be able to get him from – the brig. Mr. Sulu, you need relief, but I need you right now. Be prepared to leave within a moment’s notice. I think I am about done with these individuals. Someone get Scotty in the transporter room. I’m going to need him to help with the bodies. Spock, what else have you got for me?”

People scattered, controls flew. Spock got up, letting Jim take his spot in the command chair. Serious business was about to take place.

* * *

Nine hours later, Jim fell into bed, his head cursing him for the use of brain power, and his body yelling at him for a lot of other things.

The bodies of the two security officers had been recovered, Chekov safe in his own quarters, and the _Enterprise_ was now flying far, far away from the likes of the locals who had desired blood from genius young adults.

“Computer, what day is it?”

“March 22nd, Captain.”

 _Fuck_.

Before even beginning to comment on the fact he wanted to punch something, his communicator chirped.

“What?” he mumbled after flipping it open carelessly.

“I sent an Ensign for you _nine hours ago_!” came the all-too-familiar voice.

“Bones, not now. My brain wants to melt. Sleep… please…”

“Okay, I was trying hard to keep it a surprise, but I have something kind of important for you in my office, but you aren’t willing to come while the date still says-“

“I KNOW IT’S MY BIRTHDAY, BONES. I DON’T NEED THE REMINDER!” Jim was awake, angry. Bones had always tried to at least cheer his friend up on his birthday, but Jim had always rebelled, hard.

“You’re an asshole, ya know that? Just get your ass over here, now.” And the communicator went silent.

Jim, frustrated and annoyed, dragged himself out of the bed for the second time that day, and wandered out of his quarters. _Yeah, okay, fine. I’m coming…_

He arrived to a quiet Sickbay. Bones was absolute nowhere to be found, and Jim was about to go on the overhead system and yell.

Finally, he wandered into Dr. McCoy’s office, where he found Bones fiddling around behind his desk.

“Oh, good, you finally came.”

“What is it, Bones? I want to spend the rest of this day dead to the world,” Jim huffed, slumping into a nearby chair. _Damn alien species ruining my sleep schedule_.

A PADD appeared out of nowhere, Bones shoving it into Jim’s hands. “Just push play. You wouldn’t-“

“COULDN’T!”

“ _couldn’t_ come when I sent the Ensign for you, so… this had to make due.”

Jim sighed, took the PADD, and pushed play.

The sound of giggling hit him before the vision of one beautiful girl showed up on the screen.

“So, daddy said you couldn’t come to the phone right now, so I decided to leave you a message. UNCLE JIM!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! I love you, and miss you. Don’t let daddy kill you. And DADDY, DON’T KILL UNCLE JIM! So, um, I made this for you,” the video showed the smiling, upbeat girl holding up a painted picture of what seemed to be a house and people standing in a line. “This is our home together, because you and Daddy decided to room together, and this is you, and there is daddy, and I’m the pink person! Isn’t it beautiful? Daddy says it’s pretty. Well, school is about to start. BRING ME BACK A STAR, UNCLE JIM!!!”

And the video faded out.

Bones sat at his desk, watching as his best friend just stared.

“JoAnna.”

“She and I are probably the only ones who fucking care that you actually got another year older.”

 _I… I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Bones. I died_.

“Bones, I-“

“If you say ‘thank you’ and get teary, I’m kicking you out of my office.”

Jim managed to laugh. “God, she’s so adorable.”

“She was disappointed when you couldn’t come see her live.”

Jim knew he had let her down. “We’ll call her in a day or two.”

“Uhura worked a miracle connecting us.”

“I trust no one better.”

Silence filled the room. Comfortable silence.

Finally, Bones sighed. “I know you don’t care about anyone mentioning it, but honestly, I don’t know what I would be doing without you here, so for goodness sakes, Jim – Happy birthday.”

Jim knew Bones meant well. Always. “Yeah.”

Bones pulled something from his desk, and skidded it carefully across the surface. “Take this and go have some time to yourself. You need it.”

Smiling, Jim took the bottle of fine alcohol, knowing Bones was basically telling him to fuck his birthday out with a bang. Alone. With a really good decade.

“Thanks. I owe you,” he whispered, standing.

Bones gave his friend a look. “Yeah, we’re even right now.”

Jim didn’t even ask.

* * *

Spock found himself knocking softly on the door to the shuttle later that night, Dr. McCoy having told him exactly where the Captain had disappeared to.

After leaving behind the latest local first contact mission, Captain Kirk had relieved Spock of his position until his next scheduled shift, along with plenty of others on the bridge. In turn, the Captain had called in the night shift crew to be relief for all overworked bridge officers and crew members, including himself.

Now said Captain was off on his own, away from his quarters. Dr. McCoy had not stated why, but Spock didn’t need to be told. He already knew that it was Jim Kirk’s 28th birthday, and birthdays to the Captain were not memorable. Most of all, his own.  

 The shuttle’s outer door slid open, but no familiar face was present. Taking the hint to proceed with caution, Spock walked in, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting inside.

“Come take a seat,” the only voice around called from the cockpit, the door behind Spock shutting with a hiss.

Spock, hands behind his back, accepted his Captain’s request to come forward, but did not take the seat as gestured.

“Captain.”

“It’s Jim, and I figured it was you,” Jim responded from the co-pilots seat, not looking up from the PADD that he held with one hand, the other hand fiddling with a nearby strap. His knees were pulled up to his chest, and he wore simple sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The bottle of alcohol nearby was ¼ empty.

“Do you wish company, Captain?”

Jim ignored the fact he had already tried correcting his First Officer on proper name usage while in private, and just went ahead with an answer. “I let you in, did I not?”

Spock just nodded and took the seat opposite Jim. They had no need to talk if Jim did not wish it.

“So, I’m guessing Bones told you what today was?”

“He did not need to.”

Jim managed a chuckle. “Ah, yes, the ever observant Spock. Doesn’t actually celebrate his _own_ date of birth, but does happen to know when his Captain’s birthday occurs. Yeah, that act? That got old _fast_.”

“I do not take your meaning.”

He finally looked up, giving his friend a look of disbelief. But it passed almost as fast as it came on. “I just meant – never mind.”

“Captain-“

“ _Jim_ , Spock. It’s Jim,” he sighed, putting the PADD to sleep and placing it to the side.

“Jim, I know you do not think highly of your birthday, but might I say one thing?”

Jim shrugged. “Sure.”

“I am most thankful you are still around to celebrate, or ignore, however you like it, another birthday.”

 _Yeah…_ “That’s… kind of you, Spock.”

“With what has happened over the past two years, another year older is a-“

“A blessing, _logical_ maybe?” Jim added. “I get that, I do. It’s just hard to ever enjoy your birthday when it’s overshadowed by memories that aren’t even your own. Another year older, another year to attempt not to die. But just another day to keep moving on with what I love – space. Granted, the last bunch were a bit-“

“They were, to use your vernacular, Jim, _terrifying_.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Chekov is going to want to be back on duty for a few days.”

“I believe Dr. McCoy will insist he doesn’t take back his post for a few days.”

“Definitely.”

Their conversation died off, as Spock wasn’t sure how to respond any further. The silence was comfortable, though. To Jim, it was welcome, for a little bit.

After a while, he finally managed to say what he did want to say. “Thank you, Spock… for – for caring.”

“You are welcome, Jim.”

Jim managed a smile. He grabbed the alcohol and held it out for Spock.

Spock took it, knowing it wouldn’t do anything for him. But as a gesture of friendship on this not-so-normal night, he would follow the odd social norms.

Once he passed it to Jim, Jim stared at it and shrugged before taking a swig. “Happy birthday to me.”

Spock couldn’t help the smile he portrayed. “Happy birthday, Jim.”  

 


End file.
